About the Book
Wilson is unaware of his circumstances, and when Misty explains the particulars of his limbo state, and how he might help himself if he helps her, he's not at all happy. That is until young actress Zoey Chamberlain comes to Misty's door for help.
Zoey has recently purchased The Pink Mansion, a historic Hollywood Hills home, and believes it's haunted. But when Misty arrives to search the house, it's not a ghost she finds, but a dead body.
The police are quick to suspect Zoey of murdering her best friend. Zoey maintains her innocence and fears her friend's death may have been a result of the ghost...and a long-time family curse.
Together Misty and Wilson must untangle the secrets of The
Pink Mansion or submit to the powers of the family curse.
~~ Amazon ~~
Excerpt
The house on South Norton Drive looked like any other mid-century cottage on the same quiet tree-lined street. A two-bedroom, two-story Craftsman with a deep-set front porch surrounded by a white picket fence. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the home. Certainly nothing wraith-like. No cobwebs or darkened windows. Just a nice, quiet little house. But then, that was before I moved in.
In my defense, psychics can't read themselves.
My name is Misty Dawn, formerly Hollywood's leading Psychic
to the Stars with a clientele that once read like the Who's Who of Hollywood. A
respected consultant to the FBI on major crimes, and confidant to a former
First Lady who had me on her speed dial. After such an illustrious career—thirty
years at the top, doing late night talk shows and private consults—I never
imagined I'd find myself in the latter part of my life with a diminished
clientele. I had outlived most of the big names I had read for, and with
limited resources, I found myself in need of a place to live. But, like I said,
psychics can't read themselves.
It was my client Denise Thorne, a Realtor, who came to my
rescue. The Craftsman had been her brother's home. The recently deceased Wilson
Thorne, a flamboyant, self-absorbed, and very fey Academy Award-winning
Hollywood set designer who had died suddenly in his sleep. The home and all its
contents had been left to his sister. Who, because of a temporary upset in the real
estate market, was undecided what to do with the property. She made me an offer
I couldn't refuse.
It was one of those rare, rainy Southern California days. I
had just made Denise and myself a cup of tea, and we were seated at the kitchen
table inside my aging '68 Volkswagen Van, my sole possession, where I had been
temporarily living with my cat Bossypants.
Denise said, "Misty, I have an idea. Why don't you move
into my brother's place? It's certainly better than these cramped quarters, and
you could hang out your shingle and start afresh."
It was a tempting offer, considering my rusted trailer had
begun to leak with the rain.
Denise assured me I'd be doing her a favor. Her brother
Wilson had been a collector. Every inch of every room in the house had
something from a television or movie set or stage production he either worked
on our fawned over, and liquidating the house was going to take some time. If I
moved in it'd give me a decent place to live and save her from making a rash
decision as to what to do with the place.
I replied while Denise's offer was very generous, I was concerned
what I would do with my van. I couldn't just walk away from it. Parking it in a
lot would be an expense I didn't need. "It's part of who I am," I
said. "I’d have to find somewhere safe to keep it.”
“You can park it in my brother’s drive for all I care. As
for your cat, long as she doesn’t knock things over I suppose it’ll be fine.
Wilson was extremely fastidious about the house. Lots of collectables and
artwork. He never had pets of his own. Always worried they’d make a mess of
things. Truth is he was highly allergic. Fussy sort. Sneezed at the thought of
a feline. But now that he’s gone I suppose it shouldn’t matter. Come on, Misty,
what have you got to lose? The house would be perfect. Great location. Corner
lot. Just off the boulevard in the valley. And...” Denise raised her brows
teasingly. “As we say in Realtor speak, it’s got great curb appeal. For someone
like yourself, there would be a lot of passersbys. People out walking their
dogs. Couples. Potential clients.” Mentally, I could see Denise had already
moved me into her brother’s cottage and was calculating what I feared might be
rent. “Of course, I’d have to charge you.”
There it was, my excuse. Money. I didn’t have any and could
afford absolutely nothing. While I had earned a good living in my glory days, I
had always been a soft touch, and financial planning had never been my forte.
I'd probably given away as much as I’d ever made. I somehow believed tomorrow
would always take care of itself.
Then there was Denise. The woman was a psychic junkie. She
had made a hobby of going from psychic to psychic to compare readings and, had
I allowed it, would have seen me on a daily basis. At age forty-five, Denise
had developed a kind of teenage girl crush on the actor Hugh Jackman. She was
convinced if they met, Jackman would leave his wife of nearly twenty-two years
and ask her to be his life partner and join him on stage. Thus rekindling what
had been a flailing acting career. Delusional was not a word Denise understood.
She believed she and Jackman were soul mates. Like Katharine Hepburn and
Spencer Tracy, the big screen was waiting for them.
“I don’t know,
Denise, I–”
“Stop. We can make this work. It’ll be a win-win for us both. Unlimited counseling sessions for me, none of this once-a-month stuff. And you? Aah! Misty, you could make a comeback. Give it a year. What harm can it do?”
About the Author
Silverman retired to write fiction after twenty-five years in news and talk radio. In addition to her short stories, Silverman writes THE CAROL CHILDS MYSTERIES, featuring a single-mom whose day-job as a radio reporter often leads to long nights as a crime-solver, and the MISTY DAWN MYSTERIES, centered on an aging Hollywood Psychic to the Stars, who supplements her readings working as a consultant to LAPD and the FBI. Silverman’s newest work, THE NAVIGATOR’S DAUGHTER, is a historically based novel about a daughter’s promise to her dying father to return to Budapest, Hungary to find the family that saved his life. Silverman lives in Los Angeles with her husband and a thoroughly pampered standard poodle.Website ~~ Facebook ~~ Instagram ~~ Twitter ~~ Goodreads ~~ BookBub
Great excerpt, The House on Hallowed Ground sounds like an excellent book for me to read!
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Loved the excerpt. It sounds like a fun read.
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ReplyDeleteI love book that have psychic in the story line-thanks
ReplyDeleteSounds like a book I would enjoy reading. Thanks for the chance.
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